


san diego sunsets

by conclusions (introductions)



Series: california weather [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Beaches, College, Coming of Age, Friends to Lovers, It's a little sad, Kissing, M/M, Summer Vacation, Teenagers, it's the end of summer and everyone is leaving, soft vibes, some mild weed usage and a party scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductions/pseuds/conclusions
Summary: It’s Friday night in San Diego, California, and Donghyuck and his friends have two weeks left before summer ends and the autumn winds come to scatter them across the country.(alternatively: the end of the world is here. it’s also the start of one. you are young and you’re in love with being alive and the sky has split open for you, the stars have been hung in your honor, and it is time to go. you may not ever be ready, but you will try anyway.)





	san diego sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> i am sad about all my friends leaving for college. this is still meant to be a happy fic, as strange as that might seem. i think leaving and growing up is heartbreaking, but it is good.

Donghyuck Lee, eighteen, stands on the edge of the pier with his peeling sunburn and scratched-up hands and tells the whole ocean that he has never been more afraid in his life. 

“It’s the end of the world,” he says, voice cracking, “and I’m terrified and I wish a tsunami would come and wash away everything so nothing would have to change.” 

It’s Friday night in San Diego, California, and Donghyuck and his friends have two weeks left before summer ends and the autumn winds come to scatter them across the country. 

“It’s not the end of the world,” Jeno says. “It’s just college.” 

“And a tsunami would be really bad,” Mark adds. “We get enough natural disasters here already.” 

“Still can’t believe Chenle slept through the earthquake,” Renjun says, shaking his head. “I worry about that kid.” 

Donghyuck plops down next to Jaemin, feeling depressed. His friends don’t seem to _ get _it—how colossal this whole thing feels, and how small Donghyuck knows he is. How the whole of the world feels like it’s on the verge of swallowing him completely.

“Seriously, guys,” he whines, but nobody pays him much attention. Jaemin does rub him on the back, which is nice, but otherwise, they stay on the topic of nicer things, lighter things—things that are all going to disappear. Jeno’s off to CalPoly, Renjun to Amherst in Massachusetts. Jaemin’s leaving them all for Michigan, and even Donghyuck’s off to _ Washington, _ where the sun never _ fucking _shines but the climbing and the skiing is good. But it rains. But he’ll be happy there. Probably. If he doesn’t hurl himself off a cliff first. Which is likely, honestly, at the rate he’s going. 

Mark laughs, and Donghyuck’s attention snaps to him (his mouth) and he feels even sadder. Mark isn’t even going that far—UCLA—but Donghyuck hasn’t even kissed him yet, and he’s terrified that Mark will forget him before they’re even back for Thanksgiving. He’ll go to LA where he’ll be so popular and _ so _loved, and the rest of them will naturally shift aside to make room for his new friends. 

Donghyuck watches Mark lean over and show Jeno something on his phone. He’s sitting on his skateboard and he’s still wearing his swimsuit, and the roots of his hair are growing out, the poor bleach job he’d done in June faded to something lighter. He looks good. He looks alive. 

Donghyuck has never kissed him. He’s wanted to for the last four years. 

This might be his last chance to do it. 

An idea pops into his mind, and he rummages around in his backpack for his phone, pulling out his climbing shoes and chalk bag before he finally gets to it, covered in lint and dust. He opens up the notes app, and at the top, he types: 

_ bucket list b4 end of the world _

  1. _kiss mark lee. more than once_

He pauses here to think. A list is sort of stupid if there’s just one thing on it, and also stupid if it’s just a bunch of little things he never got around to. No, this is going to be The Bucket List, capitalized. A list for the ages, so when he’s in Washington and hasn’t seen the sun in four months, he won’t regret all four of his high school years, every decision he’s ever made, and his whole existence in general. 

“Whatcha writing?” Jaemin asks, leaning over. Donghyuck goes to hide his phone, but Jaemin is too fast—he grabs Donghyuck’s wrist and holds his phone still. When he reads the first (and currently only) item on Donghyuck’s list, he snorts. “Seriously? Out of _ all _the people in the city you could kiss you pick—” 

“Ah!” Donghyuck yelps, lunging and clapping a hand over Jaemin’s mouth before he can say anything else. Everyone looks over at them, a few people laugh, and a second later they’re back to their business. They’re used to this by now, after four years of unlikely friendship forged by the hellish fires of high school. 

When Donghyuck pulls his hand away, Jaemin’s smiling smugly. “You know that Mark knows, right? It’s kind of an open secret. You guys have been skirting around each other since sophomore year. He probably wants to kiss you _ more _than you want to kiss him, probably.” 

“Impossible,” Donghyuck declares. “I’ve never wanted to kiss anybody more than Mark Lee.” 

“What?” Mark says, looking up at the mention of his name. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing! Just, uh, talking about you,” Donghyuck says, and winces when Mark just slides forward on his skateboard, clearly curious. 

He can hear Jaemin laughing at him. Donghyuck scrambles for an excuse. 

“I just was talking about my fear of the ocean,” Donghyuck continues, which is true enough but not something he _ ever _brings up because it’s mortifying. 

_ Too late now, _he thinks, and flies with it as best he can. 

“But,” he says, hesitating, “I’ve always wanted to go…surfing. Which I know you’re good at. So.” 

Everyone is laughing at him now—save Mark, who grins so widely Donghyuck goes into anaphylactic shock. “I’d love to take you, Hyuck,” he says earnestly, and Donghyuck resigns himself to having to get into the ocean, despite nearly _ drowning _the last time he was in it. 

He turns back to his phone and writes _ go surfing. actually. don’t be a chicken. _

“You need something else you haven’t done before,” Jaemin says. “Like—” 

“Finish that V5,” Donghyuck says, referencing the immensely difficult boulder problem at the climbing gym he goes to. It’s been taunting him for nearly two weeks now. 

“I was gonna say, like, get blackout drunk,” Jaemin says, shrugging. 

“I’ve done that,” Donghyuck answers, shuddering slightly at the memory (or lack thereof). He writes the V5 down anyway. 

“Have you smoked?” Mark asks, scooting his skateboard even closer so Donghyuck can hear him over the sound of the waves. 

“No,” Donghyuck says. “Sports, remember?” 

Mark nods in understanding. “Gotcha. Well, if you wanna, hit me up.” 

_ Hit me up, _ Donghyuck thinks, dizzy. _ How am I already plus-two with Mark Lee in the span of five minutes? _

The small, bitter, existential part of him goes _ because it’s the end of your friendship and it’s making both of you brave and reckless. _

The louder, slightly less rational part of him goes _ you know what, I’ll take it. _

He writes _ smoke and not choke. _“What else?” 

“You need something hard-hitting,” Jeno contributes. “Like, a big emotional thing.” 

“What do you know about big emotional things?” Renjun asks, raising his eyebrows. 

Jeno leans back on his hands. “More than you think.”

Renjun gives Donghyuck a look over Jeno’s shoulder. _ What the hell is he talking about? _Renjun mouths. 

Donghyuck shrugs. Jeno is part-idiot and part-puppy; he’s both distressingly difficult to get through to and hilariously easy to read. He’s both sides of one coin, and _ god, _Donghyuck is going to miss his stupid dog-face smile. 

“Emotional. Hard-hitting.” Donghyuck props his chin in his palm. He’s usually fairly forthcoming with his feelings—unless—

“My mom,” Donghyuck says quietly, and his friends turn to him, surprised at the mention of her. “I’ll tell her how much I love her. _ Really._”

Jaemin lets out a slow whistle. “Damn. I can’t remember the last time my parents told me they loved me.” 

There’s a chorus of _ me neither_s. Donghyuck agrees; with the exception of his youngest sister, nobody in his family really says it aloud. Love in the Lee household is expressed in different ways—muted, quiet, and often unnoticed. It’s the way Donghyuck’s parents were raised, and despite him growing up in America and not in Korea, it’s the way they’d raised him. 

Mark is the only one that stays quiet. Donghyuck and Mark live on the same block, and they have their entire lives. Their moms go to church together and they used to carpool together before high school, when Mark started biking and Donghyuck had early-morning track practice. Mark’s stepdad called Donghyuck by his full name, pronounced correctly and everything, and hugged him at the door. Mark came out to his mom in sophomore year and she bought him a cake. Mark’s older sister calls Mark once a week. Mark says _ I love you _ all the time. 

Donghyuck wishes he could hear it just once, too. Just once before he leaves. 

It doesn’t _ feel _ like too much to ask for. At least not from his mom, who still rubs his back when he’s sick and peeled his clementines all the way through senior year. She may listen to him talk about boys with pursed lips and turn away when he throws around words like _ gap year _ or _ teaching _ or _ literature, _but she’s his mom. And a Donghyuck is really, really going to miss her. 

“Damn, okay, that got serious quick,” Jeno comments. 

Jaemin huffs. “It’s _ love, _man. It’s a serious topic.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Jeno replies. 

“Haven’t you watched _ The Bachelor?_” Jaemin asks, clearly offended. “They’re _ very _serious about love.”

“Dude, seriously?” Mark asks, wrinkling his nose. “Out of all of the sappy TV, you pick _ that?” _

Donghyuck turns to glare at Mark. “Hey, _ The Bachelor _ is fine,” Donghyuck protests, and Jaemin goes _ yeah, see? _

“Of course _ you _ like _ The Bachelor, _though,” Renjun chimes in, and it’s his turn to be glared at by both Jaemin and Donghyuck. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Donghyuck demands. 

“He just means you’re a hopeless romantic,” Jeno jumps in, playing peacemaker. 

_ Maybe I am, _Donghyuck thinks, looking over at Mark and then down at The Bucket List. 

“So are _ you,_” Jaemin is saying, accusatory, pointing at Jeno. 

Jeno shrugs. “Sure,” he says, “but at least I don’t watch _ The Bachelor._”

Jaemin looks furious, but Jeno has a point. It _ is _terrible TV, after all. 

“Touché,” Jaemin grumbles, folding his arms. “You’re still a jackass.” 

Donghyuck looks down at his list, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for his friends. He adds the number six, and next to it, he puts _ go to one more Epic Teen Party with everyone. _

Satisfied, he turns his phone off and leans back. Jeno and Jaemin are still talking about TV shows, and Renjun is egging them on. Mark is watching them with a small smile on his face, and Donghyuck is watching Mark. 

The sun sinks lower, a flat gold coin on the horizon. The waves lap at the pier, and Donghyuck sighs, wishing he could stretch this moment out and stay in it forever. 

But eventually Jaemin complains about his ass hurting, and Renjun has to go buy dinner. Then people say things like _ I should probably get going too, _and everyone stands up and starts packing their stuff up. Donghyuck offers Mark a hand, and he takes it, letting Donghyuck haul him to his feet. 

“I always forget you’ve got those crazy calluses,” Mark says, flipping Donghyuck’s hand so it’s palm-up. Donghyuck resists the urge to curl his fingers over the peeling, yellow-red spots—he’d come here straight from the climbing gym, which means his already-gross hands are _ especially _nasty. But Mark rubs a thumb over the callus at the base of Donghyuck’s pinkie, and they don’t seem as gross as they usually do.

“I’ve never been that good of a climber,” Mark says, and Donghyuck laughs, remembering the last time they’d all gone together. Mark had headed straight for the hardest climb in the gym—a V9—and had slipped off the wall and fallen directly onto his face. “I’d like to be, though. It’s pretty rad.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Donghyuck agrees, and Mark looks up at him, smiling. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and there’s a dimple on his left cheek that Donghyuck adores. If he was brave enough, stupid enough, desperate enough, he’d lean in right now and kiss Mark square on the mouth. 

Instead, Jaemin and Jeno decide it’s time for an MMA showdown, and Mark drops Donghyuck’s hand so he can turn and watch. 

“No no no,” Jeno is shouting, panicked, clawing at the back of Jaemin’s shirt. “Wait—Jaem—” 

“_Brooklyn 99 _is a work of art!” Jaemin yells, arms locked around Jeno’s waist. He pushes forward, and Jeno tips off the end of the pier. 

“My Juul is in my pocket!” Jeno shouts, and then lands in the water with a colossal splash. Jaemin looks incredibly satisfied. Jeno sputters, coughing, and hauls himself up the ladder. His hair is plastered against his head and his shoes squelch with every step he takes. 

Donghyuck is laughing so hard his sides ache. Jeno coughs until he starts retching, and Renjun, teary-eyed, pounds him on the back. 

Jeno empties out his pockets and holds up his Juul, whacking against his thigh. He tries to take a hit off it, but the Juul lets out nothing but a sad wisp of tutti-frutti smoke and then dies. Jaemin winces when Jeno glares at him. 

“Rest in peace,” Jeno tells it, cradling it to his chest. “Thank you for starting and sustaining my nicotine addiction. You will be missed by all.” 

“Not me,” Donghyuck says, wrinkling his nose. “Juuling makes you look like a douchebag.” 

“Like a douchebag bastard _ and _it’s so bad for you,” Renjun says soothingly. 

“You guys are awful,” Jeno says, throwing Renjun off of him. “Mark, back me up.” 

Mark shrugs. “Sorry, dude, but I’m sorta with Hyuck and Renjun on this one.” 

“Fine,” Jeno says, sighing. “But I’m blaming Jaemin when the withdrawal symptoms make me sweat.” 

“Fine,” Jaemin shoots back. “You’ll be thanking me when Maddie Sanchez finally agrees to go out with you because you don’t look like a tool.” 

Jeno opens his mouth, but Jaemin’s played the Maddie Sanchez card, which is insta-kill for Jeno. Donghyuck has never seen a human being pine so much in his life. With the exception of Jaemin, maybe, when he was desperately in love with Jeno for like, five years. But that is another excessively long story, and Donghyuck only likes thinking about it when he needs either blackmail material or a cheering up. 

Jeno peels his shirt off and switches his sneakers out for the flip-flops he’s got in his backpack. He stands, shorts dripping, and everyone breaks into laughter again. Jaemin’s smiling, and Jeno’s forgiven him, clearly, because he lets Jaemin sling an arm around his shoulders. Donghyuck shoulders his backpack and follows his friends down the pier, into the orange glow of the setting sun. 

* * *

The sun is baking hot on Tuesday, and Donghyuck watches Mark and Jeno mess around on their surfboards, floating out in the distance. There are a few other people with them from their school sitting with them, drinking spiked Snapple and passing dab pens around. Mostly Jaemin’s friends, though there’s a few guys from the track team and a girl Donghyuck climbs with sometimes when he’s in the mood for top-roping. 

He’s in no mood to be either high or drunk, however, even with Sublime’s _Santeria _playing in the background and Jaemin’s laughter. He’s actually a little sullen, because he’d asked _Mark _if he wanted to hang out, not Mark and Jaemin _and_ Jaemin’s fifty billion friends. He wanted a fun, possibly flirty time at the beach where Mark gently coaxed him out of his fear and into the water. This, so far, is neither fun _nor _flirty, much to his displeasure. 

“I’m hot,” he whines, “and I’ve got sand in my asscrack.” 

Nobody pays attention to him, so he kicks Jaemin in the back. “Jaemin, what the _ hell _ is going on?” 

Jaemin turns, rubbing his back. “We’re hanging out and having a _ nice time, _Donghyuck. Please don’t whine about Mark Lee. It makes me want to vomit.” 

“Believe me,” Donghyuck mutters darkly, watching Mark push himself to his feet on his board in one smooth motion, “it makes _ me _want to vomit, too.” 

“Aw,” Jaemin says, patting Donghyuck on the head, “don’t be too sad. You could always go in the water and talk to _ him, _if you’re that desperate.” 

Donghyuck considers this—his crippling fear of the ocean versus his nearly overwhelming desire to kiss Mark, which requires some foresight, a little bit of flirting, and more time _ alone. _

“I don’t like the ocean,” he mumbles, sticking his feet into the sand. The song switches to something louder, more upbeat. “You know that.” 

“I do,” Jaemin says, “but I also think you’ll hate yourself if that stops you from going after something you want.” 

Donghyuck stares at Jaemin for a long minute, who gives him an encouraging smile. “Who are you, and what did you do with Jaemin Na?” 

Jaemin laughs and pats Donghyuck on the head again. “I’m _ great _at love advice.” 

“Absolutely not,” Donghyuck replies immediately. “I refuse to believe that. Remember when you were in _ love _with—” 

“Yes, I do, and we’re not going to talk about it,” Jaemin cuts in quickly, giving Donghyuck a shove towards the water. “Now go. Be free. Kiss in the ocean. Surf’s up, whatever, I hate California. Bye.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly gets to his feet and trudges towards the water. As he walks, he watches Mark slide onto his front, looking over his shoulder as the water swells beneath him. He paddles hard, expression focused, and just when Donghyuck’s afraid he’s going to be swept away, he shifts forward and pushes himself up to his feet. The intense look shifts into something infinitely more joyous, and the smile that breaks over his face is so dazzling that Donghyuck stumbles. When he gets his balance back, Mark is waving at him, coming up on the shore and stepping off his board. 

_ God, that’s hot, _ Donghyuck thinks, picking his way across the sand to where Mark is waiting for him. _ He’s so hot and I’m going to die. _

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Renjun’s tells him he’s being absurd. But Mark smiles again, and Donghyuck personally thinks he’s being perfectly rational. 

“Hyuck!” Mark says, leaning forward and giving Donghyuck a one-armed sort-of-hug. His skin is wet, and colder than Donghyuck expects. His hair flops into his face and Donghyuck resists the urge to push it back for him. 

“Hi,” Donghyuck says, eyeing the ocean behind Mark and taking a step back for good measure. “It’s good to see you.” 

Mark leans down and unfastens the board leash from around his ankle. “Ready to give it a shot?” 

Donghyuck, who had been watching Jeno fall of his board quite spectacularly, looks sharply down at Mark. “Am I—give what a shot? Surfing?” He sputters, feeling panic rise in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Mark says, frowning. “Isn’t that…why you came?” 

“Uh.” Donghyuck scrambles for an excuse, for something besides the truth, but can’t find anything. Not that it matters. There are two weeks left of summer before he needs to start packing up—god, he’s still got so much to _ do _—and says goodbye to San Diego and to California and tosses himself into the great wide abyss that is freshman year in another state, so far from home and everyone he knows. 

So he tells Mark the truth. 

“I came here to see _ you,_” Donghyuck says, stressing the last word. Mark’s eyes go wide for a half-second, and Donghyuck feels a weird flutter of courage-slash-satisfaction at that look, like even if Mark wasn’t _ expecting _ that answer, he’s not upset to hear it. “I’m terrified of the ocean, Mark. You know that.” He’d _ been _there when Donghyuck had been dropped off at home, wet and terrified. A couple of once-friends (Donghyuck doesn’t talk to them anymore after what happened) had been goofing off near a cliff-jumping spot. Donghyuck, who doesn’t like heights, deep water, or swimming in the dark, had caught an elbow in the chest and went tumbling off into the ocean. 

He’d nearly drowned. 

Mark had been messing around on his skateboard in the near-empty street when Donghyuck’s friends had dropped him off, leaving him shivering in his still-wet clothes. 

“You were pretty messed up, yeah,” Mark says, propping his surfboard up in the sand. “I can’t believe those guys just dumped you on the curb without checking up.” 

Donghyuck raises one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. “Good thing you were there.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you sit on your front steps all night,” he says, and puts a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder so that he’s forced to meet Mark’s eyes. “But Hyuck, don’t you think it’s time to conquer it? Your fear?” 

“I don’t think it’s something I can conquer,” Donghyuck says doubtfully. “I haven’t put even a _ foot _in the ocean since.” 

“It won’t bite you,” Mark promises earnestly, “and I’ll be there with you. You’ll have a board, you’ll see the shore.” He steps closer, and Donghyuck can smell sunscreen and salt water on his skin. “Come on,” he says, quieter. “Trust me?” 

And just like that, Donghyuck caves. 

“Alright,” he says reluctantly. “But if I get scared, I’m out.” 

“Deal,” Mark says, and then fist-pumps triumphantly. “_ Yes, _ ” he adds. “I’ve wanted you to try this for _ forever._” 

He steps out of the ocean and hands Donghyuck his surfboard. “Hold this,” he says, “and I’ll be right back. I’ve got to grab a board for you.” He breaks into a jog, headed for the group of friends Donghyuck had left behind. 

Behind him, Jeno emerges from the water, hair plastered to his face. His nose is bleeding a little. 

“Hi, Hyuck,” Jeno says, joining Donghyuck in watching Mark talk to Julia Waters, who graduated valedictorian despite being stoned for every single Calc test she took. Donghyuck remembers watching her wander into class, take the test, and then leave, totally out of it. 

“What happened to your nose?” Donghyuck asks, snickering. “Fall too hard for yet _ another _girl absolutely out of your league?” 

Jeno winces. “Hey.” 

Donghyuck shrugs, totally unapologetic. “It’s either girls out of your league or girls who turn you down then come out two months later.” 

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Jeno admits, sounding defeated. “I just wanted to go on _ one _ date with Maddie Sanchez, but she won’t even _ look _at me.” 

“Probably because Jisung went around telling the school that Renjun would exile anyone who messed with you,” Donghyuck snorts, “which is true, I guess, if Renjun actually admitted he was friends with us.” 

Jeno laughs and shakes his head. “Jisung’s a piece of work.” 

“You can say he’s a brat, you know,” Donghyuck says. “We all know it’s true. Even Jisung himself.” 

Julia Waters and Mark Lee are both on their feet now, headed towards the parking lot. Donghyuck’s heart sinks a little as he watches them go, and he wonders why Mark left him with this stupid surfboard if he’s just going to walk away. 

Luckily, Jeno keeps a clear head. Well, about as clear as Jeno’s head can get. Donghyuck thinks Jeno’s got a giant boulder instead of a brain. As weird as it is to think about, he and Jaemin really _ would _ go great together—Jaemin smiles all the time because he _ also _has no brain, just a hole that alternates between chaotic screaming and confused elevator music. 

“Julia’s a got a good pop-out board,” Jeno says, and even if Donghyuck has no idea what a _ pop-out _is, it doesn’t sound like anything that could threaten his ultimate plan to kiss Mark. “You don’t want to use Mark’s to start—you’ll just slip right off.” 

And sure enough, Mark is walking back with an absolutely massive white-and-blue surfboard balanced atop his head, chatting with Julia. She waves to him and goes to sit back down, while Mark continues towards Donghyuck. 

“Hey,” Mark greets, setting the huge surfboard down in the sand in front of them. It looms over them both, and Donghyuck looks between it and Mark, confused. 

“This is called a pop-out,” Mark says, patting it. “It’s foam-fiberglass. Cheap, basically indestructible, and the shape of it makes it easier to stand up on. You’ll be cruising in no time.” 

Donghyuck gives the surfboard a doubtful glance. “It looks like it could kill me.” 

“Nah, you’ll be okay,” Mark assures him, sounding far too casual for someone about to lead Donghyuck into the one thing he fears most. “You’re athletic, and you’ve got me.” 

Jeno looks between the two of them. “I can’t believe you’re _ actually _gonna do this, Hyuck. That’s sort of badass, you know?” 

“See, Jeno believes in you,” Mark says, nudging Donghyuck and taking his surfboard back. “You ready?” 

Donghyuck looks uneasily at the water, his stomach twisting. “Um.” 

“I’ll catch you later,” Jeno says, taking the silent cue to leave. “Good luck, dude. We’ll be cheering for you.” 

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says weakly. Jeno and Mark fist-bump, and Mark waves as Jeno goes jogging back up the beach. 

The water reaches up to lap at his toes, not quite touching. Mark launches into an explanation of what they’re gonna do, what they’re gonna work on, while Donghyuck stares at his feet and tries to slow his heart rate. 

Mark wades into the water until he’s shin-deep, and turns back to look at Donghyuck. “You can do it,” he says encouragingly. 

Donghyuck takes a step into the water. It’s cold, but that’s about it. The world doesn’t end. He doesn’t start drowning. It’s a damn miracle, honestly. 

He gets in to his shins, then his knees, and then Mark is showing him how to sit on the board and not tip, how to balance, how to paddle. He demonstrates, looking perfectly comfortable and totally at home. Donghyuck has a lot less luck—it takes him a few tries to get on, and as soon as he’s on his stomach, his face is far too close to the water. His heart practically stops in his chest. He sits up, freaked-out, and immediately feels like a fake poser, sitting on the surfboard like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Try again,” Mark encourages, and Donghyuck takes a deep, steadying breath before lying back down. The water splashes up against his chin as he tentatively paddles forward. Mark cheers as he gets going, moving faster as his confidence starts to increase. The smile Mark gives almost makes him forget that he’s floating in the ocean on a foam board. 

They move outwards a little, and the ocean floor drops away from underneath them. Mark makes sure they’ve got space before he sits up on his board, making sure Donghyuck’s comfortable before he starts talking about feeling the water and standing up. He’s not the _ best _ teacher, Donghyuck thinks, slightly endeared—there’s a lot of terms being thrown around, and Mark uses too many sound effects as well as the word _ like. _

“So, it’s like, you just gotta push up with your arms,” he says, “and like, sorta pull your feet under you—back foot first, I think, and then your front foot like sorta to where your arms are.” He looks over to Donghyuck, eyes bright. “And then _ bam, _you’re up, and all you gotta do is keep your knees bent and your upper body straight-ish.” 

Not a very good teacher, sure, but enthusiastic. It’s impossibly endearing.

It takes a few tries for Donghyuck to even get comfortable with the sensation of being pulled by the water—he lets a couple waves just roll under him, and even more pass where he just paddles and then sits back. 

“Okay, try to stand up on this one,” Mark says after a little bit. “I’ll tell you when.” 

“Right,” Donghyuck says, turning his surfboard around and hiding his face so Mark can’t see his anxiety. “I’ve got this,” he tells himself, exhaling. “I’ve _ got _this.” 

“Okay, paddle hard,” Mark says, and Donghyuck does as he says, his stomach tangling as the back of his board starts to lift. “Paddle, paddle—now! Stand up!” 

Donghyuck plants his hands, slides his back foot up, and then his front foot. There’s a second where he thinks he’s done it, until the board slips out from underneath him and he plunges headfirst into the water. 

Salt water rushes into his nose, choking him, threatening to flood his lungs. There’s an insistent tug on his ankle—the board leash—and he follows that, panic pushing at his chest, his head, the edges of his consciousness. His head breaks the surface and he clutches the board, coughing and sputtering, feeling like he might be sick. 

Mark is there in an instant, and his hands are all over Donghyuck’s shoulders, his neck, the back of his head. He’s worried, clearly, and he’s saying Donghyuck’s name, hauling him onto his surfboard and pushing hair off of his face. 

Donghyuck takes a deep, shuddering breath, unclenching his hands. They shake a little bit, and his sinuses burn slightly, but he’s alive. He’s _ fine. _

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and Mark’s hands still by his hair. “I’m—that was scary.” 

Mark peers into Donghyuck’s face, checking for injury or maybe shock. “You’re—you’re okay? You had me there for a second, not gonna lie.” 

“I’m okay,” Donghyuck assures Mark, taking one of Mark’s hands between his own. “It just took me by surprise.” 

Mark stares at him, brow creasing. “You’re not…scared? Are you in shock, Hyuck? How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Two, and that’s for people with concussions,” Donghyuck points out. “I’m fine. _ Really. _I was—am—still a little scared, but. That wasn’t like falling off a cliff.” 

Mark’s whole body relaxes. “Good.” 

They sit in silence for another moment, and then Mark starts laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” Donghyuck asks, startled by the noise. 

“Nothing,” Mark says, still laughing. “Just—_sick _wipeout, dude. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone go face-first like that in a long time.” 

Donghyuck’s cheeks feel hot, and he kicks water in Mark’s direction. “Shut up. I’m going again. I’m going to get it this time.” Fear is quickly replaced by competition-induced determination, which, when _ that _gets into Donghyuck’s bloodstream, nothing can really stop him. 

Mark holds up his hands in surrender. “Shutting up. You got this, Hyuck.” 

It takes a couple more tries—well, maybe more than a couple, actually, because the better part of an hour is gone by the time Donghyuck finally manages to stand. He’s only up for five seconds, maybe a bit longer, before he loses balance and has jump off, but it counts. It is long enough to hear Mark shout _ yeah, Hyuck! _and long enough for Donghyuck to feel Mark’s smile on the back of his neck, warm like the sun. 

* * *

A few hours later, he and Mark are sitting in Mark’s car, the music blasting and the windows rolled down. It smells a little like weed, which Mark assures Donghyuck is from the last time he and his friends smoked in here and _ not _because he has weed stashed in the glove compartment. He’s been pulled over once, for going too slow on the freeway, he tells Donghyuck, and is sorta paranoid it’ll happen again. If he’s got weed in his car, then he’s really fucked. 

Donghyuck misses whatever Mark says next, because he’s too stuck on the fact that Mark’s been pulled over for going too _ slow, _ of all things. It’s hilarious, but also so quintessentially _ Mark, _fitting neatly in with the other nine billion random things Donghyuck knows about him. 

“You can cross surfing off your list,” Mark says as he takes a left on their street. “You crushed it, by the way. I’m really happy you went.” 

Donghyuck opens the note and puts a little check-mark emoji next to number two_ . _Well, maybe the fear isn’t conquered—he still gets sweaty thinking about cliff jumping and deep water—but it’s a start. His arms ache and his skin feels a little itchy from the salt water that’s dried on it, but there’s a small knot of warmth in his chest, humming with success.

Mark does a terrible parallel parking job in a spot across the street from both of their houses. Donghyuck watches June, his youngest sister, come out of the house with a plastic garbage bag. 

Mark turns off ignition, but makes no move to get out. The radio announcer is talking about some sweepstakes thing for a trip to New York to see Chance the Rapper, who just released tour dates. 

“I might go see him,” Mark says. “Chance, that is. He’s coming through California.” 

Donghyuck rolls down his window, and a cool breeze ruffles both Mark’s hair and the palm trees that arch over them. Their shadows are lengthening as the sun slowly creeps towards the horizon. “He’s not coming anywhere near Seattle,” Donghyuck says. “So I’ll miss him. Record ‘Summer Friends’ for me if you do go.” 

Mark nods. “’Course.” 

“—and speaking of Chance the Rapper,” the announcer says, “we’ve got ‘Do You Remember’ here for you, starting off another long set. This is one-oh-two-point-seven—” 

“_Kiis FM,_” Donghyuck finishes with the announcer, and the song starts. “I hate this song.” 

Mark reaches for the dial. “I can change it—” 

“No, I mean, it’s a fantastic song,” Donghyuck corrects, and Mark sits back, tilting his head, “but it makes me so sad. Especially with—with college, and all of that.” 

They sit for a second and listen to the song. _ Do you remember how when you were younger, the summers all lasted forever? _

_ Yeah, _ Donghyuck thinks, and his eyes sting. _ I do. _

“Hey,” Mark says quietly, touching Donghyuck’s cheek. Startled, Donghyuck turns towards him, violently rubbing at the tears gathering by his lashes. “You _ do _know this isn’t the end, right? We have next summer, and the summer after that. We have years.” 

“But we don’t have the in-between anymore,” Donghyuck whispers. “You—we’re all leaving. Growing up.” His voice cracks on the last word. “I don’t think I’m ready.” 

“It’s okay,” Mark says. He still hasn’t moved his hand from Donghyuck’s face. “I’m not, either. It’s fucking freaky, isn’t it? We’re only eighteen, nineteen—and the world expects us to be _ ready._” 

“Ready for what, even,” Donghyuck mumbles. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m doing it anyway.” 

“Yeah, and it’s like, _ holy shit,_” Mark says, and for a second, Donghyuck thinks Mark might cry too. He leans into Mark’s hand, who strokes a thumb over Donghyuck’s cheekbone. In the background, Chance raps about Chicago and nostalgia and growing up. 

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck agrees, and Mark brings his other hand up to cup Donghyuck’s face. His eyes are bright, and Donghyuck feels like his heart is tearing in two. The moment trembles, stretches, and Donghyuck gathers his courage.

“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck breathes, and Mark answers by leaning over the console. 

Sunkissed, salty, warm to the touch—this is what filters through Donghyuck’s senses when Mark kisses him. 

It is nowhere near perfect, or even nice—the seatbelt digs into Donghyuck’s neck, and the gear shift is pressed awkwardly against his knee. But it’s Mark, and it’s also Donghyuck, and expecting anything to work out between them the first time is absurd. So he enjoys what he can—Mark’s hands cradling his face. The smell of Mark’s hair, the stubble on his jaw. The feeling of being kissed gently, softly. 

They pull apart, and the look on Mark’s face makes Donghyuck tear up all over again. Mark pauses to let him unbuckle his seatbelt, and then puts an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder as he rubs violently at his eyes, face turned away. Mark strokes Donghyuck’s arm, up-down, up-down. The silence that’s fallen between them is a little awkward, but there’s no weirdness or unnecessary tension. Donghyuck thinks it’s just because Mark is pretty awful at knowing the right thing to say. 

“Is that the guy from Death Cab for Cutie?” Mark asks finally, and it’s _ so _like Mark to try to change the subject that Donghyuck can’t help but laugh. “No, seriously,” he continues, frowning, “is it?” 

“I think so, yeah,” Donghyuck says, pulling out his phone to google it. A notification pops up on the screen—it’s a text from Lia telling him to _ stop kissing Mark and get inside! _

Donghyuck leans forward and sees Lia’s face in the upper window. He sticks his tongue out at her, she rolls her eyes and flips him off. She turns back to her phone, and another text comes in. 

_ HURRY UP MOM IS GOING NUTS, _Lia’s written. 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck says, letting his head fall back against the seat. “I have to go. My mom is going crazy, apparently.” 

“Yeah, you probably should,” Mark says, but neither of them move, unwilling to take their hands off of each other.

The radio goes to an advertisement for Chevrolet. 

There’s a faint screech as Lia wrenches open her window. “Hyuck!” She shouts, glaring. 

“Should probably go,” Mark repeats, and slowly unlocks the car door. “But I’ll see you later, right?”

Donghyuck’s chest squeezes at the hopeful look on his face. “Right,” he confirms. There’s a brief moment of tension-filled silence as they figure out if they should kiss again, or hug, or just…shake hands? God, Mark better not go in for a fist bump or Donghyuck’s going to drown himself. And maybe Mark, too. 

Luckily, they unanimously decide to do nothing, which is somehow the worst option and the best one. 

“Seeya,” Donghyuck says, and opens the car door. “Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.”

“Rad,” Donghyuck says. He grabs his backpack from the backseat, taking longer than strictly necessary. 

“Yeah, sick,” Mark says. He gives Donghyuck a finger-gun and then seems to immediately regret it. “Don’t…you didn’t see that,” he mutters, face pink. 

“See what,” Donghyuck says immediately, and Mark gives him a sheepish look, and Donghyuck snorts. The tension eases, and Donghyuck finally feels like he can go inside. “Bye, Mark.”

“Bye, Hyuck,” Mark says, and smiles. Donghyuck gives him a small wave and heads up the driveway. The memory of the kiss is already sinking into him, pulling him under and making his fingertips tingle. 

It feels like drowning. And it also feels like flying. Donghyuck can’t decide which is better, and which is worse.

He’s not sure he wants to. 

* * *

The next morning, he’s sitting in the kitchen listening to his mom do the breakfast dishes, still sleepy. She’d come through his room with the vacuum around eight, and then had pulled the sheets off his bed while he was still in it, merciless and unsympathetic. He’d complained about being in his underwear, but she’s sharply reminded him that she was his mother and she’d seen way worse. 

Now he’s lounging at the table, feet tucked under him, trying to work up the energy to bike to the climbing gym. That V5 isn’t going to be around much longer—they’ll take it down and change the boulder routes by the end of the week. But the sky is cloudy, and the day is unseasonably cool for mid-August; Donghyuck thinks it might rain. All he really wants to do is go back to sleep, but his mom will yell at him again if he does. He mentally flicks through his list of friends—Renjun is working, Jaemin is in Los Angeles with his family. Jeno might be free, so Donghyuck decides to text him. He texts Mark, too, though he’s a little afraid it’ll be weird between them after yesterday. Mark had sent him a couple Snapchats last night, but they were mild, and almost _ too _ polite. Despite the whole kissing thing being pretty much inevitable (they’d been skirting around each other since Mark came out about a year ago, and even _ Mark _ isn’t _ that _ dense) he doesn’t know how to…progress. He hasn’t figured out how they can truly exit the limbo between friends and something _ more. _Donghyuck doesn’t want to be just friends-that-kissed. He wants to be friends-that-kiss-a-lot. Friends-that-kiss-and-it-means-something. 

Jeno texts back as his mom starts putting silverware in the dishwasher, the radio station she likes blasting oldies. 

_ Yeah, _ Jeno’s written, _ I’m free in a bit. gotta finish up some packing but i’ll be free around 2ish? _

Donghyuck checks the time. It’s noon, which means he really has no excuse to avoid the climbing gym now. Two hours should be plenty of time to complete the V5. 

Donghyuck texts back, _ yes!!! awesome what do u want to do? _At the same time, his phone buzzes with a text from Mark. 

_ Yeah I’d be down to chill, _ it reads. _ What are you doing right now haha? _

Donghyuck stares at his phone, a little surprised. He doesn’t know _ what _ he was expecting Mark to say, but it certainly wasn’t…this. Laid-back, chill, not weird at all. Maybe even a little eager? Is he reading into things? Is this just him getting ahead of himself? Mark is cute, Mark makes him laugh. Mark is someone Donghyuck has known for nearly a decade—as long as he’s lived in his house, Mark has lived next to him. It’s easy, Donghyuck thinks, to jump the gun on this thing when it feels like he’s been waiting for _ years _ for him and Mark to fall together. 

But he’s never been particularly patient, and it feels like Mark is into this as much as he is, so Donghyuck texts him back. 

_ I was just about to head to the climbing gym, if you wanna come?? We could get lunch after???? _

Mark’s reply is quick. 

_ I’m in :) _

Donghyuck feels warmth spread through his chest, a little, excited tingle shivering up his spine. He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. His mom puts down the pot she’s drying and looks up at the noise. 

“Are you going somewhere?” She asks him, brow wrinkling. “I need your help folding the laundry.” 

“I’m going climbing,” Donghyuck answers, and his mother’s frown deepens. “Mark is coming, and I’m going to meet Jeno later. I probably won’t be back for dinner.” 

“Oh,” she says, and then turns back to face the sink. Donghyuck can feel her irritation and hurt rolling off of her in waves. Donghyuck, for a moment, wishes she wasn’t so passive-aggressive. Then he remembers that it’s not his job to make his mother happy, and turns to go upstairs. 

His mother surprises him by speaking again. “Please come back for dinner,” she says quietly, and it takes Donghyuck a minute to register the change from English to Korean. “You haven’t been here as much, and it makes me sad.” Her eyes are shiny, and Donghyuck feels his throat close up. A bitter taste fills his mouth as his mother dries her hands on a towel, clearly thinking about what to say next. 

“I’m not going that far, Mom,” he answers her, still in English because he’s stubborn and switching to Korean usually means he’s going to argue or cry, two things he’s trying to avoid. “Just Washington.” 

“Out of my house, though,” she says, and her voice is tinged with real melancholy. Donghyuck presses his hands together, wishing he could just cross the room and hug her. He can’t remember the last time he did that, though, so he stays put and lets the table continue to separate them. 

His mother sniffs. “My oldest son, all grown up. Leaving his parents.” She twists her hands together, mirroring him, and Donghyuck almost laughs. “I remember when you were born. Your father and I had just moved to San Diego, and when I held you, you didn’t cry. You just looked into my eyes, like you are now, and I thought, _ it will break my heart to see him go._” She sniffs again, and the first tear slips down her cheek. She rubs it away quickly and looks down. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly, I know. Your silly mother, crying over her son staying for dinner.” 

“No,” Donghyuck says quickly. “It’s not—I’m sad, too. And scared. I don’t want to go.” 

Another tear slides down his mother’s cheek, but she comes around the dining table. There’s a moment where Donghyuck thinks she might just pass by him, but she reaches out at the same time he does. 

“You’re going to do just fine,” she whispers, and Donghyuck squeezes her a little tighter, feeling ten years younger and half a foot shorter. “You’ve always been such a smart boy. I’m just going to miss you, is all. Your sisters drive me crazy.” 

Donghyuck laughs. The sound comes out a little more choked than he’d like, but it lifts some of the heaviness in the room. His mom pulls away, and Donghyuck is glad to see that she’s smiling, despite her tears. She pats him once on the cheek, the skin by her eyes creasing. Her smile is what Donghyuck’s will be in thirty years. 

“Go see your friends,” she says, nodding. They’re back to English; the moment has passed. “Say hello to Mark for me. He has always been a sweet boy.” 

“I will,” he replies. He takes a step towards the stairs, but something tugs in his chest, making him hesitate. He turns back around, taking a deep breath. “Mom?” 

“Yes?” She asks, rummaging around in the cabinet for the dishwasher soap. “Where did your father put—” 

“Under the sink,” Donghyuck says, suddenly nervous. “Mom, you know I love you, right?” 

His mother stills, holding the bottle of dish soap. She looks at him, and for a moment, Donghyuck can read all the emotions on her face—pain, hope, love. 

“I am proud of you, Donghyuckie,” his mother replies, and from her, that’s enough to bring tears to Donghyuck’s eyes. The use of his nickname makes him feel like a little kid again, standing in front of his preschool classroom, clutching his mom’s hand. 

“Really?” Donghyuck asks, almost shy. His mom nods. 

“Really,” she answers, and the smiles they give each other match. “Now go climb. I’ll see you later.” 

A weight off of Donghyuck’s shoulders lifts, and he feels light, elated. “I’ll see you for dinner!” He shouts, taking the stairs two at a time. 

“Don’t be late!” His mom scolds, but he can hear her smile. 

The feeling follows him all the way to the climbing gym. He locks his bike, and the minute he sees Mark the same fuzzy feeling overwhelms him and he can’t help but fling his arms around Mark’s neck. 

“Whoa, hey,” Mark says, staggering back a few steps and doing his best to return the hug. “It’s good to see you too. What’s up?” 

“I just had a really, really good talk with my mom,” Donghyuck says, stepping back. Mark leans forward, like he’s trying to keep an arm around Donghyuck, but seems to think better of it at the last second. Donghyuck notes it, and it only adds to the giddy feeling in his stomach. “Like, _ really _good. It was—it was scary, really scary, but it needed to happen before I leave.” 

Mark smiles. “That’s awesome, Hyuck, really.” 

“Anyway, I’m feeling great,” Donghyuck says, rubbing his hands together and starting for the door. “Let me get this V5, then we can get lunch.” 

“A V5 is hard, right?” Mark asks, trailing after Donghyuck. “Wait, shit, do I have to get shoes?” 

“Generally helps,” Donghyuck teases, scanning his membership card and ushering Mark towards the front desk. “Hey, Taylor, what’s good?” 

Taylor looks up from her crossword puzzle and gives Donghyuck a smile. “What’s hanging, you guys? Hey, Mark, it’s been a sec! Back to try another V9?” 

“Maybe,” Mark says, “and maybe I’ll absolutely _ nail _it this time, who knows.” He gives Taylor double peace-signs, and she snorts. 

“Alright, I checked you in, don’t worry about the fee,” she says, waving Mark through. 

“Tight,” Mark says, and holds up his hand. Taylor rolls her eyes, but slaps Mark’s hand anyway. 

“He’s absurd,” Taylor informs Donghyuck as soon as Mark’s gone to find rental shoes. “I heard from Phoebe Jensen that you guys have a thing?” 

“Who—what,” Donghyuck says blankly, wondering how something so low-key has reached _ this _far. “How?” 

“I think she knows Jaemin Na,” Taylor says. “Anyways, congrats. I always thought you guys would be cute together.” 

Donghyuck’s face gets hot. “That’s—that’s not the point. The point is…” He trails off, and Taylor raises an expectant eyebrow. 

“You know what,” Donghyuck says vehemently, ignoring the way Taylor immediately starts laughing at him, “it’s low-key. It’s not even a big thing. It’s just, like, a regular thing. The point is to have _ fun. _And to kiss him like, once, maybe.” 

“Okay, Hyuck,” Taylor laughs, clearly not buying it. “Enjoy your climb.” 

“Fine,” Donghyuck answers, but he can’t help but smile, warmed by the knowledge that even _ acquaintances _think he and Mark would be good. 

He reminds Mark about how bouldering works—VBs are the easiest, then V0s, and then up from there. The tape is where you start and end, don’t stand under people while they’re climbing or you’ll get your head knocked in, don’t take your shirt off if you’re climbing anything below a V5, etcetera. All very important details, Donghyuck thinks. Mark seems more amused than anything, which Donghyuck is taking as a win. 

They mess around on some easier climbs—Donghyuck shows off as much as he physically can, over-exaggerating simple moves and climbing faster than he really should. But Mark always looks impressed when he gets back down to the mats, which makes Donghyuck feel like he’s standing on top of the world. 

The V5 with its white holds taunts him the whole time. While Mark is figuring out his feet placement, Donghyuck watches a girl go for the finishing move, which involves _ literally _ swinging one’s body to get enough momentum to reach a _ tiny _ hold that fits _ two _fingers, and a foothold that, if missed, will send the climber tumbling back down to the start. Which is what happens to the girl—she misses the foot and lands hard on her back, lying there for a second before her partner offers her a hand up. 

“Alright, motherfucker,” Donghyuck mutters, hopping off the mat and crossing to the other side of the room. He hears Mark join him a few seconds later, breathing heavily. 

“_Ohhh, _is this it?” Mark asks, and Donghyuck nods. “Looks impossible.” 

“It nearly is,” Donghyuck says, sticking his hands into his chalk bag. His heart speeds as he walks over to the starting holds, fingers aching prematurely at the thought of having to do this stupid climb again. _ What makes this time any different? _The nasty, pessimistic part of him asks as he squats down, pinching the holds. 

“You can do it,” Mark says encouragingly. 

_ I’ve got Mark, _Donghyuck answers, and somehow, that makes all the difference in the world. 

His body knows the route by now. A hand here, a foot there. A careful shift where he has to trust his right foot, and a crimp that strains the tendons in his hand. He can feel Mark’s eyes on him as he gets to the final move, and he takes a breath as he swings himself back. 

He reaches with his right hand, throwing his weight forward. He gets his first two fingers into the hold, but his foot slips against the wall. 

For a moment, it feels like he’s going to fall, and it’ll all have gone to waste.

But then below, Mark shouts, “you’ve got it!” and somehow, Donghyuck manages to hold his weight with his two fingers _ just _long enough for him to set his right foot on the tiny foothold, the one that’s caused so many falls. 

“Yes!” Mark cheers, and Donghyuck kicks his left foot up and _ finally _slaps both of his hands on the finish. Relief floods through him, and when he drops to the ground, he’s so drained that he goes face-first into the mat without any consideration for the people around him. 

Mark, however, has the energy to shake Donghyuck and slap him on the back so hard Donghyuck’s ears ring. “You did it!” He says, and Donghyuck groans, feeling like his bones are dissolving. “Hyuck, that was _amazing._” 

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says, letting Mark haul him up. He slumps forward, and Mark catches him by the shoulders. “I’m wiped. Are you wiped? It feels like lunchtime.” 

“Lunch sounds pretty good right about now,” Mark agrees. “You earned it. You _ crushed _that climb.” 

“Yeah, you hear that?” Donghyuck says, turning around and glaring at the V5. “I crushed it. Fuck you, motherfucker. Stupid smug-faced _ bastard, _thought you were better than me—” 

“Okay, Hyuck, it’s just a wall,” Mark assures him, and puts an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulders, steering him towards the cubbies where their shoes are stored. “You can check that off your bucket list, though. It’s done. You did it.” 

Mark’s hand smooths down his back, and Donghyuck heaves a sigh. “I did it,” he says. 

They sit like that for a minute, Mark’s hand warm on Donghyuck’s back. They both probably smell awful, and the climbing gym is the second least-romantic location ever, right after regular gyms. Donghyuck even manages to trick himself into thinking this is what forever could feel like, if he wanted—here, next to the boy he likes most, vaguely sweaty and vaguely in love. Like the summer could last forever, if he really wanted it to. 

He wants it to. He wants nothing more. He’ll never admit this aloud, of course, at least not sober and not to Mark himself. Renjun, maybe, or Jaemin if he’s had some alcohol. This is the thing with summer, Donghyuck thinks. As soon as he wants it to keep going, it starts to end. 

But for now—for now, he’ll sit in the parking lot with his friends eating burgers and watching Mark Lee try and fail to ollie on his skateboard, the ocean at their backs, watching another San Diego sunset and trying desperately to pretend like he has forever. 

* * *

Friday comes again, marking one week until the first of them have to leave. 

“I’m almost done packing,” Renjun is saying. They’re back on the pier, tucked away at the end in the corner that had inexplicably become _ theirs _over the last four years. Now they’re giving it away. “It’s so weird, seriously. My room feels empty.” 

Mark leans back on his hands. “Can’t relate. Donghyuck and I don’t leave until September.” 

“Fucking quarter system,” Renjun says. “It’s so nice here in September.” 

“Yeah, but we’ll be all alone,” Donghyuck mumbles, feeling morose. It’s all they really talk about nowadays—packing, moving, leaving. Everything coming up, everything happening next, everything _ after. _It makes Donghyuck feel like he’s constantly on the verge of tears or an existential meltdown. 

Jaemin picks up on Donghyuck’s mood. “Hey, let’s just not think about it, okay?” He says to all of them. “Why don’t we do something tonight? Nobody’s got work tomorrow, right?” 

There’s a chorus of _ no_s. Jaemin brightens, and smiles. “Let’s go out!” 

Jeno groans and puts his head in his hands. “If you say what I think you’re gonna say—” 

“Maddie Sanchez is throwing a party,” Jaemin informs them brightly, and Jeno tips forward into Renjun with a distressed noise. Everyone ignores him, even Renjun, who merely pushes Jeno off of him with a vaguely disgusted expression. “It’s the last one before she heads off to SFSU.” 

“Can’t believe she’s going to San Francisco,” Donghyuck says. “She _ hates _that city.” 

“It’s cheap, though, and she got a lot of aid,” Mark says. “She’s smart enough for Berkeley, but they wouldn’t pay her through. You heard about her parents?” 

Jeno looks up, suddenly interested. “No. What happened?” 

“She wants to study literature,” Mark says, “but she told me her parents shut her down. So she’s doing the whole college thing on her own.” 

Donghyuck feels his eyes go wide. Maddie had been unbreakable, as far as he’d seen—SGA class president, captain of the track team, salutatorian. Anything she’d wanted, she’d worked her ass off to get. Jeno wasn’t totally crazy for loving Maddie as much as he did. _ Everyone _loved her. 

“Whoa, that’s _ nuts,_” Donghyuck says, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over them. “I can’t believe she’s on her own.” 

“Which is why,” Jaemin says, encouraging, “we should go and give her our best. Tell her that we love her—“

“No,” Jeno groans, still sounding distressed. 

“—and tell her she’s awesome and will change the world,” Jaemin finishes firmly. “I think she’d like that.”

“Well, that was a very emotional story,” Renjun deadpans, “but I was in when you said _ party._”

“Square deal,” Mark says, and Jaemin claps his hands excitedly. “Maddie Sanchez’s house it is.”

“Please don’t make me go,” Jeno whispers to Donghyuck as they head to the parking lot. “I can’t face her after the Prom Debacle.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that,” Donghyuck says, snickering. Maddie had tried not to laugh, she really had, and Jeno had put more than an hour’s work into his sign, but he’d made an error—a huge, glaringly obvious mistake. _ WILL YOU GO TO PORM WITH ME? _the sign had read, and the whole school knew about it by lunchtime. Jeno didn’t speak for the rest of the day, and he’d cried in Mark’s Jeep for nearly twenty minutes the next morning. 

Donghyuck manages to reel himself in, but only because Jeno looks _ truly _miserable, and he’s leaving soon, which maybe is making Donghyuck feel a little fonder towards him than usual. 

“Hey, think about it like this,” Mark offers while Donghyuck takes deep breaths, trying to tamp down his laughter. “The house is huge, you’ll have all of us, and you won’t even have to see her if you don’t want to.” Mark raises an eyebrow. “Sound alright?”

“Yeah, I guess I can live with that,” Jeno mumbles. “I guess I just…I don’t want to fuck up again.” 

“You won’t, man,” Mark says, reassuring and upbeat as always. “We’ve got your back.”

Jeno looks appropriately cheered up, and they pile into Mark and Renjun’s cars and head towards Mark’s house. It isn’t the biggest (Renjun’s is) but it’s usually chosen for its notable absence of both siblings and parents, giving the five of them free run of the place. 

“Hello?” Mark calls when he walks in, throwing his keys on the counter with a jingle. There’s no reply, and Mark grins. “Sweet. My stepdad and mom are going on a date tonight, so they won’t be back till later.”

“Aw, but I like your stepdad,” Jaemin says. “He cuts apples so neatly.”

“That is a weirdly specific thing to like him for,” Renjun says, wrinkling his nose. Mark shrugs. 

“It’s true, though,” he says. “He’s a pro apple-cutter. But that’s just a chef thing, I think.”

“You’re both hopeless,” Renjun mutters, then a little louder, says, “who wants to go versus with me in _ Smash? _” 

“Oh, you’re so on,” Jeno says, kicking off his shoes and making a break for the living room. “I call the GameCube controller!” 

“Wait, no, I was gonna call it,” Jaemin complains, trailing after him. “Jeno, come on, _ please? _”

“Jeno, be a man and tell him no,” Renjun calls, lining his Birkenstocks up next to Mark’s battered Nikes. 

“Jeno, be a man and tell him yes! And gang up on Renjun!” Donghyuck shouts after them, relishing momentarily in the sound of Jeno and Jaemin fighting over the singular GameCube controller. He turns back to Mark with a satisfied smile. “I love doing that,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“Aren’t you gonna play?” Mark asks, turning so he can plug his phone. “Your hyper-competitiveness usually turns you into a beast.”

“Yeah, well,” Donghyuck says, shrugging, “there’s something else I wanted to do.” He gives Mark a long, knowing look, and the temperature in the room spikes suddenly. The air between them grows heavy with anticipation, and Mark’s cheeks turn pink. 

“Hyuck,” Mark says, a little embarrassed. 

“You don’t regret it?” Donghyuck asks quietly, taking a step forward. He doesn’t need to specify what _ it _ is. Mark bites his lip, and dread churns in Donghyuck’s stomach as he waits for Mark’s response. He doesn’t _ think _ Mark regrets the kiss—but he’s always been an overthinker, and there’s also that whole anxiety nonsense too, the kind that asks _ are you sure? _one hundred times—

“No, I don’t,” Mark says, and Donghyuck looses a massive breath, relief settling over him. “I just—“

“Just what?” Donghyuck asks. Mark regards him for a moment, looking torn, before he shakes his head. 

“Nothing,” Mark says, closing off slightly. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t wanna ruin anything.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to protest, but the look on Mark’s face begs him not to push it. Donghyuck refuses to let himself dwell on it, so he does the second-best thing he can think of and closes the last foot of space between them, kissing Mark hard. 

The response is immediate. Mark puts his hands on Donghyuck’s waist, pulling him closer, and in return, Donghyuck slides his hands into Mark’s hair, letting his eyes close. This time around, out of the car and more sure of himself, Donghyuck can enjoy it, can appreciate that Mark Lee is a _ really _good kisser. He lets Donghyuck take the lead, humming when Donghyuck pulls away, teeth catching on Mark’s lower lip. There’s a half-second where they look at each other, slightly winded and pink-mouthed, before Mark leans back in to kiss him again, softer and sweeter than the first. Donghyuck lets him, feeling warmth bloom from his fingertips to his nose. 

“Yo, are you—whoa,” someone interrupts, and both Mark and Donghyuck turn to see Jeno, frozen in the doorway. Donghyuck starts to step away, but Mark catches him by the wrist, keeping him close. 

“It’s a thing,” Mark says firmly before Jeno can comment. His whole face is bright red, but there’s no sign of embarrassment or insecurity. “_ We’re _a thing.” 

“Who’s a thing?” Jaemin asks, coming up behind Jeno. When he sees Donghyuck and Mark pressed against each other, his whole face splits into a grin. “Oh, _ shit, _you guys are?” 

“If you say _ anything, _ Jaemin Na, I’ll kill you,” Donghyuck threatens, but it falls on deaf ears as Jaemin starts to laugh. “Come _ on, _” he whines, sticking his face into the crook of Mark’s neck. Mark laughs too, shoulders shaking, but he wraps an arm around Donghyuck. 

“Told ya so,” Jaemin says to Jeno, who’s just shaking my head. “That’s ten bucks, loser.” 

Jeno mutters something under his breath and digs out his phone. 

“You had a _ bet _on us?” Mark asks, raising his eyebrows. “Were we really that obvious?” He asks Donghyuck, turning to him. 

“Yes,” Renjun says, joining their friends in the doorway. “Jeno, you owe me and Jisung ten bucks also.” 

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck groans, mortified. “Mark, this is all your fault.” 

“No way,” Mark protests, stepping away so he can look Donghyuck in the face. “If you weren’t so scary, I would’ve kissed you years ago.” 

“Scary?” Donghyuck yelps, but Mark grabs him again before Donghyuck can hit him square in the face. 

“Only because you were so cute,” Mark says quickly, smoothing a reassuring hand down the back of Donghyuck’s head. “That’s it.” 

“Uh huh,” Donghyuck mutters, but lets himself be mollified, tucking his face back into the crook of Mark’s neck. Renjun makes a violent retching noise from behind them. 

“Dude, what the _ fuck _is happening,” Jeno says, face blank with disbelief. 

Jaemin is laughing so hard he’s nearly in tears. “He’s like a tiny, angry dog,” he says, doubling over. “Holy—Renjun, Renjun, this is so funny, you’ve got to put in on your story—” 

“No worries,” Renjun says, tapping his phone a few times. “Twenty people have already seen it.” He gives Mark and Donghyuck amused looks. “Everyone will know by the time we show up for Maddie’s party.” 

Mark sighs. Donghyuck knows he’s not a fan of PDA, and he also doesn’t like people up in his space. Donghyuck is generally the complete opposite, especially in this case—there’s a part of him that’s actually _ excited _for people to know that he and Mark are a Thing, capital-T and all. 

“Oh well,” Donghyuck says, not bothering to sound sincere. He winds his arms around Mark’s waist and tilts his face up for a kiss. “Guess there’s no point in hiding it.” 

Mark gives Donghyuck a flat stare—he’s not buying Donghyuck’s bullshit, clearly—but still obliges anyway, pressing a kiss to Donghyuck’s cheek. Donghyuck beams at him, feeling like he’s _ glowing. _

“Disgusting, terrible, absolutely awful, never do that again,” Renjun deadpans, stepping away. “When you guys are done being gross, though, come and play. I’m in the mood to kick Mark’s ass.” 

“Hey,” Mark protests weakly, but it’s true—he’s terrible at _ Smash. _His inability to work technology seems to extend to video games as well, something that has been a constant source of amusement in their group for as long as they’ve been friends. 

Jaemin lets out another delighted cackle and follows him, leaving Jeno behind. Jeno hesitates for a second, clearly thinking hard. 

“Jeno?” Mark asks, a little unsure. His hand tightens on Donghyuck’s shoulder, and Donghyuck can feel him tensing up. There have never been any issues with this kind of stuff, as far as Donghyuck can tell—Jeno’s the only straight guy out of the five of them, and it’s never seemed to bother him, so clearly that’s not the issue. Which means it’s less about them being _ boys _ and more about them being _ together_. 

“This isn’t gonna change anything, Jeno,” Donghyuck says quietly, and Jeno looks up, a little startled. “We’re the same people. We’re not gonna throw the whole dynamic off.” 

“That’s not…” Jeno says, and trails off when he realizes Donghyuck has hit right on target. “I mean, I wasn’t worried. You guys are great. And I’m happy for you both, seriously.” 

“It’s all good, Jeno,” Mark reassures him, casual as ever. “Seriously, dude, don’t be worried.” 

“I’m dating Mark, not you,” Donghyuck adds. “Which means there's no reason for our friendship to change.” 

Jeno’s face relaxes even as his cheeks get a little pink. “Thanks,” he says softly. There’s a moment of awkward, tender silence between the three of them before Mark clears his throat and they all make various excuses to leave the kitchen. But Mark’s hand doesn't come off of Donghyuck’s back, and Jeno shoots them both a small smile. 

“All good?” Mark asks later as they prepare to head to Maddie's house. 

“All good,” Donghyuck confirms, and means it. 

* * *

For someone so lovable, humble and smart, Maddie Sanchez’s parents are real assholes. Not that Donghyuck has met them, necessarily, but they have one of those huge, arrogant-looking beach houses that’s close enough to San Diego to still _ technically _ count as part of the city, but just far enough to maintain the Us-Them mentality—the Sanchez residence is surrounded by other, equally haughty houses, the patchwork beach-town vibe of San Diego that Donghyuck loves so much absent.

Luckily for them, Maddie’s parents are out of town, which means Donghyuck has no fear as he walks hand-in-hand with Mark to the front door, waving to a few people he knows sitting on the front porch. 

“Fifteen bucks for entry, twenty if you want unlimited shots,” one of the boys drone without looking up from his phone. “Venmo only. Maddie-dash-Sanchez, all lower case.” 

“Twenty bucks, wow,” Renjun comments, and the boy looks up. It’s Michael Lopez, a guy Renjun messed around with for a few months junior year. Donghyuck had AP US History with him—Michael slept through the majority of that class, and then proceeded to spend a week straight camped out at Donghyuck’s house the week before the AP test with the rest of that class, desperately going through notes. 

“Huang,” Michael says, and it looks like his brain restarts as Jaemin loudly clears his throat. Renjun, uncharacteristically, is quiet. “Uh, what’s up, you guys?” 

“Not much,” Mark answers, slinging an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder and pulling his phone out with his free hand. “You said twenty bucks?” 

“Nah,” Michael says, waving Mark off. “You guys are chill, and I know you and Jae are tight with Maddie.” 

“Is she here?” Jaemin asks. “She was at Happy Mart thirty minutes ago, according to her story.” 

“That’s ‘cause a few of her friends wanted to shotgun but didn’t want beer,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “So she got White Claw.” 

“Amazing,” Donghyuck says dryly. “I love our generation.” 

“Point is, you guys are good to go,” Michael says, and Mark reaches out to bump Michael’s proffered fist. “Enjoy yourselves. Shots are still three bucks each, unless you can convince Bella to hook you up.” 

“Rad,” Mark says, giving Michael a wave. “See you later, man.” 

Michael waves at them. “Wait, Huang,” he says, and Renjun hesitates, blinking hard before he turns around. 

“Come on,” Jaemin mutters, grabbing Jeno and Donghyuck by the elbow and tugging them inside. Donghyuck catches a glimpse of Renjun’s face—he looks pretty annoyed—before they’re surrounded by the party, the change in atmosphere immediate and hypnotic. The room is dim, slightly humid, and the music is so loud Donghyuck can feel it through the soles of his feet. He can feel it working on his mood already, and he takes a moment to soak it all in: the underage drinking, all the faces he recognizes, the booming bass. It feels like a movie moment, shimmering and unbreakable, and Donghyuck is going to miss it when it’s gone. 

“Drinks!” Jaemin shouts, leaning in close. His grip on Donghyuck’s arm tightens, and he waves to Mark and Jeno. “Donghyuck and I will handle it! We’ll meet you guys outside in a second.” 

Mark and Jeno vanish into the press of bodies within seconds, leaving Donghyuck and Jaemin to make their way towards the kitchen. They’d pregamed a little—maybe a shot or two each—but Donghyuck isn’t trying to hold back tonight. This is on his bucket list, at the very bottom: one last Epic Teen Party with his friends. He intends to make the most of it. 

He and Jaemin do another shot in the kitchen—Jaemin knows Bella, somehow, and asks the right questions to get her smiling, which in turn gets them free vodka. Renjun joins them a second later, and he looks so disgruntled that Bella hands them all another shot without being asked. 

“What did he want?” Jaemin shouts, and Renjun rolls his eyes. 

“Something sappy and not worth my time!” He answers, and holds out his shot. Donghyuck and Jaemin tap the tiny red cups to Renjun’s, and they all down the vodka together. Renjun’s face twists at the taste, but he holds out his cup to Bella again, who refills it. 

“Boy trouble,” Jaemin explains, and Bella frowns sympathetically. Renjun takes his shot, and Bella and another girl Donghyuck doesn’t recognize hands them all semi-warm bottles of Corona, which they take outside. Mark and Jeno look like they’re having a very serious, way-too-sober conversation, but it dissolves as soon as the three of them walk up. 

“What’s going on?” Jaemin asks, concerned, but Jeno studiously avoids his eyes and accepts his beer soundlessly. 

“Just talking,” Mark says, casting a glance at Jeno. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“Okay,” Jaemin says slowly, clearly not buying it. Donghyuck digs an elbow into Jaemin’s ribs, a reminder to stay out of his head, and Jaemin gives him a grateful look. “Cheers, then,” Jaemin continues, holding up his beer, “to a good night and better friends.” 

Donghyuck will always drink to both of those. “Cheers,” he echoes, and they all take a sip of their beers. It’s terrible, and far too warm, but it’s alcohol, it’s cheap, and it doesn’t matter when there’s this many people and it’s this sort of night, warm with a cool breeze, the sky velvet-blue. It doesn’t matter when he’s got his best friends around him, when he’s got his fingers interlocked with Mark’s, when the world starts to blur pleasantly as his senses slow with alcohol. 

The night wears on, and Donghyuck bounces from friend to friend, sitting here and chatting for a little before cramming himself into the living room with others to dance to _ thank u, next. _ He sits with Renjun in the hallway for some time, first in silence sipping on vodka and Sprite (who knows where _ that _came from) until Renjun finally speaks. 

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” he says, words slurring a little. “We’re gonna be…so fucking far.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes start to burn with tears, and he tips his head onto Renjun's shoulder. Renjun links their arms, and Donghyuck sniffs. 

“You’re gonna kick ass, though,” he tells Renjun, voice thick. “You’re gonna be so great. You’re gonna be just fine.” 

“I know,” Renjun replies, “but I don't _ wanna _ be. I wanna stay here and chill with you guys. I don’t _ want _to make new friends and find my own way and be pulled into the real world. I like it here. I like you guys.” 

Donghyuck isn't sober enough to stop his tears for any longer. “Renjun," he whines, voice breaking. “I love you so much. I’m going to miss you.” 

“I love you too,” Renjun mumbles, and the hitch in his breathing tells Donghyuck he’s crying also. “I know I don’t say it a lot, like Jaemin does, but—“ 

“Who cares about Jaemin,” Donghyuck hiccups. “The whole world would be sadder if you weren’t in it.” 

Renjun squeezes Donghyuck’s arm, and gently rests his head against Donghyuck’s. “Same goes for you,” he says softly, and Donghyuck wipes at the tears that are dripping off his chin. “I really am happy for you and Mark, by the way.” 

Donghyuck smiles, even though Renjun can’t see him. “Thanks,” he replies. “He makes me really happy.” They leave it at that. Donghyuck gets the feeling Renjun knows what he wants to say, anyway. He’s surprisingly perceptive like that. 

“Don’t mention this to anyone,” Renjun says after a few minutes of peaceful sitting, “or I’ll kill you.” 

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, not feeling threatened in the slightest. He’s pretty sure that Renjun won’t remember much of this tomorrow morning, and there’s also the fact that both of them are too drunk to walk straight. 

“Good,” Renjun says, and pats Donghyuck on the head. At that exact moment, Jeno and Jaemin come stumbling down the hallway, bumping into the walls and nearly tripping over Renjun’s outstretched legs. Donghyuck’s about to call out to them, but Jaemin pushes Jeno against a closed door and kisses him square on the mouth. The world grinds to a halt, everything taking an extra second to register through the heavy fog of alcohol. Renjun and Donghyuck sit and stare for a second longer, watching as Jeno basically melts into Jaemin, flinging his arms around Jaemin’s neck and kissing him back with reckless abandon.

“What the _ fuck, _ ” Donghyuck says, absolutely bewildered. “No, seriously, what the _ fuck? _” 

Jeno and Jaemin still don’t hear them, despite the fact that Donghyuck is nearly shouting. They just keep kissing. 

“Okay, gross, let’s go,” Renjun says, nudging Donghyuck. “I have no idea what’s going on but it’s making me sick to my stomach.” 

“What kinda alternate universe is this,” Donghyuck asks himself, shaking his head as Renjun drags him to the feet and back into the party. Once they’re back in the living room, Renjun turns to Donghyuck, expression blank. 

“Did you also see that?” He asks Donghyuck. “Was that really just Jeno and—“ 

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck finishes, rubbing at his eyes. “Who knows. Maybe we’re both just really drunk.” 

“_Ho-o-oly _fuck, you guys,” Mark says, jogging up to them. “Did you just see—“ 

“Jeno and Jaemin?” Renjun and Donghyuck say at the same time, and Mark nods, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Donghyuck says, sighing. “I was hoping it was a drunken hallucination.” 

“Fuck this shit," Renjun says eloquently. “I need more alcohol. See you guys later.” He tosses the near-empty Snapple bottle to Donghyuck, who barely manages to catch it. 

“Okay,” Mark says as they watch Renjun greet a few people Donghyuck doesn't recognize. “Well, that just leaves us.” He glances at Donghyuck. “Want to go down to the beach?” 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says, and lets Mark take his hand and guide him back outside, through the gate and down a very neat set of stone stairs. When they get to the sand, they pause for a moment to kick off their shoes and socks, leaving them at the bottom of the steps. The music and the sound of the party fades as they walk farther down the beach, replaced by the soothing rhythm of the waves on the shore. 

Mark takes Donghyuck’s hand again, intertwining their fingers. 

“Your hands are cold,” Mark says. 

“I’m drunk,” Donghyuck replies, looking up at the sky. San Diego is too bright to truly see the stars, but if he squints, he can make out part of the Big Dipper, and maybe a planet. “Renjun and I talked,” he says, sitting down before he can trip over his own feet. Mark sits next to him, and Donghyuck immediately puts an arm around his waist. “I’m going to miss them all so much.” 

“Me too,” Mark says, leaning into Donghyuck’s side. Warmth bleeds through the thin material of Donghyuck’s shirt, comforting and safe. “I think you were right. It really does feel like the end of the world.” 

Donghyuck hums, and comfortable silence falls between them. The ocean continues to ebb and rise, ebb and rise. 

“What were you gonna tell me earlier?” Donghyuck asks, referencing the moment in the kitchen. “Before I kissed you.” 

“Hmm,” Mark says, pausing. “I was gonna ask if you thought this felt pointless.” 

Donghyuck can’t say he didn’t expect it, but the question hurts nonetheless. His eyes are stinging again, and there’s a funny ache in his chest. “Theoretically,” Mark says, “it should be. You’re going north, I’m staying here. We’ll be miles apart. I don’t want to make you feel like you need to commit to something when we’re both leaving so soon.” Another pause. “It’s also not super fair to me, either.” 

“Not fair to both of us,” Donghyuck says, and feels Mark nod. The first of the tears leak from the corners of his eyes. 

“But in reality,” Mark continues, “and the more I think about it, really, there _ is _a point. Because I’m happy, and you’re happy, and it doesn’t feel sad or rushed, or anything like that. I know the expiration date exists, but—but I don’t care.” 

Donghyuck thinks for a long moment, digesting everything Mark has said. The fresh air and the cool breeze has lifted the fog around his brain somewhat, but it still takes him a moment to formulate words. 

“That is the most emotionally mature thing you’ve ever said,” Donghyuck comments, and Mark laughs self-consciously. “But I’m with you. You know how I’ve felt, I think, for way longer than this last week.” 

“Maybe,” Mark says, and leans in to kiss Donghyuck. He doesn’t quite make it to Donghyuck’s mouth, but he rolls with it, kissing Donghyuck’s cheek and temple and beneath his ear, all the way down his neck and back up again before letting Donghyuck pull him closer, their mouths meeting properly. 

Donghyuck’s heart jumps in his chest, warm, unfiltered affection flooding through his veins as Mark kisses him softly, sweetly. There’s a sad, blue-tinged note to it, though, a sort of melancholy that has Donghyuck clinging to Mark’s shirt, tears gathering in his lashes. Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut, holds Mark a little tighter, and tries to catalogue everything so he can remember it forever. 

The sound of the ocean. The stars in the sky. The smell of briny water, of Mark’s shampoo, and lukewarm Corona. The warmth from his palms, soaking into Donghyuck’s skin. Mark. Just Mark, and nothing else. 

* * *

They send Renjun off on Tuesday, just before it starts to rain. 

Jeno and Jaemin, who had been acting weird since the party, manage to put their problem aside to say goodbye to their friend. 

“Those two need to figure their shit out,” Renjun says as he and Donghyuck make one more trip upstairs to Renjun’s room for the last of his stuff. “I can’t believe they _ kissed. _Isn’t Jeno in love with Maddie?” 

“Dude, who knows anymore,” Donghyuck answers. “I didn’t even know Jeno _ wanted _ to kiss boys, much less _ Jaemin._” 

“You have to keep me updated, okay?” Renjun asks, opening the door to his room. “I need to know how it resolves.” 

“_If _it resolves,” Donghyuck corrects, and Renjun laughs. His room is nearly empty, walls stripped of pictures and posters. His bed, for the first time Donghyuck’s seen it, is neatly made, and the usual pile of sneakers in the far corner is gone, packed away into one of the boxes in the back of Renjun’s car. 

Renjun picks up his duffel bag and hands it to Donghyuck before grabbing his backpack. He hovers for a moment in his doorway, looking at his room with an odd, glassy-eyed expression. 

“Goodbye, room,” Renjun says distantly. “Thanks for keeping me safe.” 

He puts a hand on the doorknob, blinking once, then twice. Donghyuck has never seen Renjun look so lost in his life. 

“Come on, Renjun,” he says quietly. Renjun hesitates for a second longer, and then closes the door with such finality that Donghyuck feels like he might vomit. 

Outside, Jeno and Jaemin have finished helping Mrs. Huang load the car, and have gone back to standing three feet away from each other. Mark is talking to Mr. Huang, who is wearing a Padres hat and holding another duffel bag. Mrs. Huang sees Renjun on the front steps and immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, Mom,” Renjun says weakly, and lets her pull him into her arms, where she cups his face and smiles tearfully. 

The rest of them turn away respectfully, giving Renjun and his mom some space. Donghyuck stares at the ground, willing his own tears away. Mark, noticing his quietness, puts a comforting hand on Donghyuck’s lower back. 

After a few minutes, Renjun walks over to them. He’s wiping away his tears as quickly as they come, but when Jaemin steps forward to hug him, he gives up and lets them run down his cheeks. 

Donghyuck thinks his heart is breaking, his chest hurts so badly. It’s making it hard to breathe. 

Jaemin steps back, sniffing hard. Jeno goes next—his eyes stay dry, but there’s a pale-faced silence to him that speaks volumes. Then Mark, who hugs Renjun briefly and says something that makes him laugh wetly. Finally, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and as soon as he feels Renjun’s chin dig into his shoulder, he lets out a shuddery breath. 

“Don’t cry on my jacket,” Renjun says, lacking his normal sass. “Besides, we already had our emo moment, remember?” 

“You’re my best friend,” Donghyuck whispers, not sure he can keep his voice steady if he speaks any louder. “I’m allowed to cry as much as I want.” 

“Yeah, but my head’s starting to hurt,” Renjun says, tightening his hold on Donghyuck. “Crying’s a lot harder than I remember it being.” 

“I love you,” Donghyuck says desperately, clinging onto Renjun. “Don’t forget about me. Text me all the time. Or email. Or write me a letter.” He pauses, and Renjun laughs. “Or _ something, _Renjun. Or you might just see me in Massachusetts.” 

“I will,” Renjun promises, letting go and stepping back. He offers Donghyuck a smile—sad and tearstained, but genuine. “Don’t worry.” 

Donghyuck is trying not to. It’s hard, given that he’s watching his best friend leave them for the great unknown world of the east coast. 

“Ready to go?” Mr. Huang asks, and Renjun nods. 

“Ready,” he confirms, and opens the door to the passenger side as his dad gets in front. He turns to the four of them one last time. Donghyuck suddenly remembers freshman year, when Renjun came up to their table and told them he was going to sit with them, his face a mix of nervous-hopeful-sad. It is a mirror image of Renjun’s current expression as he tells them, 

“I love you all,” 

and, 

“I wouldn’t trade any of you for anything.” 

Four years have never seemed as short as they do right now, standing and watching his best friend get into a car bound for somewhere strange and far away. 

Renjun waves to them, and Jaemin and Mark shout their goodbyes as the car pulls out of the driveway and into the street. Donghyuck’s fingertips have gone numb at this point, and he’s not really sure if he’s breathing. His chest hurts, his eyes burn, and he wants to go back to the beginning again, back to when the biggest worry he had was where his homeroom was and if he studied enough for his midterms and if his dad would ground him for staying out too late and coming home drunk. 

Renjun’s car takes a left at the end of the block, and Donghyuck watches it until it disappears from sight. The silence that falls over them is deafening, punctuated only by the sound of Mrs. Huang and Jaemin crying. 

Mark takes Donghyuck’s hand. “Come with back with me,” Mark says quietly.

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, still staring at the spot where Renjun’s car was a moment ago. “I miss him already.” 

“Me too,” Mark replies. “He’ll be okay.” 

Donghyuck nods. He knows this. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

“You’re welcome to come in,” Mrs. Huang offers. They all turn her down as gently as they can, and she nods, understanding. 

“Renjun is a lucky boy,” she says before they all go. Her smile is kind, and Donghyuck remembers it as he climbs into Mark’s Jeep, as they pull up to Mark’s house. 

Lia is sitting on the front steps of Donghyuck’s house, looking pissed. Donghyuck isn’t really in the mood to deal with her right now, but she doesn’t give him much of a choice.

“Dad’s being unfair,” she tells Donghyuck, curling her arms over her knees. “Will you come in with me and talk to him?” 

Donghyuck looks over to Mark, who shrugs. “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he says, and Donghyuck sighs tiredly. 

“What is he being unfair about?” He asks Lia. “You’re sixteen, Lia, you don’t have to listen to him anymore.” 

His sister pouts, blowing her bangs off her forehead. “He won’t let me take the car _ anywhere. _What’s the point of having my license if I can’t even drive?” 

Normally, Donghyuck would tell Lia to go away and figure it out herself, and that it isn’t Donghyuck’s job to sort her shit out for her. But he’s feeling a little heartsore, emotionally drained, and he looks at his sister and wants to start crying again. He’s going to miss her, he realizes. So much. Maybe more than anything else in this whole city. 

“Okay,” Donghyuck relents, and heads inside with her. 

“Donghyuck-ah,” his mother greets when she sees him. “Did you say goodbye to Renjun?” 

“Yeah,” he replies. “It was…hard. I’m going to miss him a lot. Do you know where Dad is?” 

His mother eyes both him and Lia, putting the pieces together. “Go easy on him,” she says, putting her hands on his hips. “He’s had a long day. You know how tired work makes him.” 

“We will,” Lia sings, the picture of innocence. Their mother sees right through them, of course, but she doesn’t bother trying to stop them. One Lee sibling is already stubborn, but two is impossible. Three is even worse—a natural disaster of its own category. 

Their father is on his way back down from his room when Lia and Donghyuck corner him on the stairs, and there is nothing he can do but fold under the two of them, relinquishing the keys to his car with a bemused smile. 

“You two,” he says, _ tsk_ing. “Lia-yah, what are you going to do when your brother goes to Washington? You’ll have to recruit your sister.” 

Lia wrinkles her nose. “Junie’s useless.” 

“I heard that!” June shouts from behind her closed door. Their dad gives them one last affectionate smile, patting them both on the head before he goes downstairs. Lia turns to Donghyuck, her face scrunched up. 

“What _ am _I gonna do when you’re gone?” She asks, voice wavering dangerously. “Who’s gonna be my ride-or-die? Junie? She can’t even cross the street by herself, much less smuggle alcohol in through the window.” 

Donghyuck swallows hard. “You’ll have to come visit.” 

Lia brightens considerably at the thought. “We can see the frats!” 

“We’re _ not _seeing the frats,” Donghyuck immediately shoots back, and Lia sticks her tongue out at him. Donghyuck reaches out to whack her on the head, and she retaliates with a swift kick to his shin. 

“Ow, fuck, my leg,” Donghyuck complains. 

“Language,” their mother chides from the kitchen. 

His phone buzzes. It’s from Mark, asking if he’s still coming over. Lia glances at it, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “You and Mark, huh,” she says, crossing her arms. 

Donghyuck feels his face get hot. “Maybe. No. Shut up. Don’t tell Dad or he’ll disown me.” 

Lia’s grin widens. “Aw, so cute. You guys are so cute. All my friends think so, too.” 

“Shut up,” Donghyuck repeats, dead-serious, “or I’ll kill you. I really will. And I won’t feel bad about it. Junie will help me.” 

“I will,” comes June’s muffled voice from her room. Lia shrugs, totally unbothered by the threats. 

“Still cute,” she says, and cackles gleefully as she dodges the punch Donghyuck throws at her. She makes a break for her room, barely stopping the door from slamming at the last second. Donghyuck glares at the door for good measure before heading back downstairs. 

“Going to Mark’s,” he says to his parents, who tell him the usual things—be polite, say hi to Mark’s mom, let them know if he’s out past curfew. Donghyuck knows it all by heart now. 

The thirty-second walk from Donghyuck’s house to Mark’s is so shockingly quiet it knocks the wind from him, the familiar ring of his Lia’s laugh still echoing in his ears. Funny to think how he’ll be saying goodbye to that sound so soon. The first drops of rain are starting to fall as Donghyuck walks up the driveway to Mark’s house. Mark has left the front door slightly open for him, and Donghyuck makes sure to close and relock it behind him. He can hear music coming from upstairs, and he follows it to Mark’s bedroom. 

Mark is sitting at his desk, laptop open to the UCLA website. Donghyuck is so wrung-out that he doesn’t even make a comment; he just flops face-first into Mark’s bed, listening to the rain hit the roof and windows. 

Mark shuts his laptop and grabs something off his desk. Donghyuck watches out of half-closed eyes as Mark props his window open. 

“What are you doing?” Donghyuck asks. Mark holds up his dab pen, leaning towards the open window and exhaling his lungful of smoke. 

“Wanna try?” Mark asks. “It’s on your bucket list, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know if I care that much about my bucket list anymore,” Donghyuck says listlessly, turning so he’s on his side. “It’s not that fun now that summer’s ending.” 

“Not gonna force you, of course,” Mark says, “but it might help. Plus, then you’re done with the list. And you can forget about it.” 

“I don’t know if I want to be high,” Donghyuck says, doubtful, sitting up and eyeing the pen in Mark’s hand. “I sort of just want to cry for a while and dissolve.” 

“That’s chill, if you wanna do that,” Mark says, shrugging. He takes another hit, and Donghyuck watches him. 

“Okay, give me that,” Donghyuck finally says, getting antsy. Mark’s got him thinking about The Bucket List, which is triggering both his hyper-competitiveness and also his perfectionism. He’s one item away, and he’s with Mark. If there’s any time to try it, it’s now. 

“So press the button,” Mark says, handing the pen to Donghyuck, “then inhale for like, three seconds. And blow it out the window, or I’ll have to tell my mom I’ve started wearing pineapple-scented deodorant.” 

Donghyuck does as Mark says, but his lungs seize anyway, and he spends the next few seconds coughing violently. Mark laughs, patting him on the back, and says, “okay, so, maybe a little aggressive. Try it again.” 

Donghyuck gives the pen a withering look, but tries again anyway. The second hit is a little better, a little less painful—Donghyuck chokes back the urge to cough, covering it by chugging the glass of water that sits on Mark’s desk. “Now what?” He asks, when he’s sure he’s not going to cough again. 

“Now we wait,” Mark says, sitting down on his bed and pulling out his phone. 

Donghyuck sits down next to him, Mark automatically lifting an arm so Donghyuck can put his head on Mark’s chest. “How long?” 

“Not that long,” Mark answers. _ Not that long _actually means around two minutes, when Donghyuck slowly starts to disconnect from his body, the squiggly mess in his stomach settling and some of the weight easing off of his shoulders. The energy leaches out of him, and he sags bonelessly against Mark, his tongue and mouth rapidly drying out—something that makes it very difficult to talk. 

So they don’t, at least for a while. They just sit there, mildly stoned, wrapped around each other. The more points of contact they have, Donghyuck discovers, the better he feels, so he slings a leg over Mark’s thighs and slips a hand up the side of Mark’s shirt to rest against his ribs. 

“Is this what it’s about?” Donghyuck asks sleepily, and Mark puts down his phone so he can look Donghyuck in the eyes. 

“Is what about what?” 

“Forgot what I was going to say,” Donghyuck hums, nosing along Mark’s collarbone. He smells like laundry and Old Spice. “Something about, like, growing up and how it’s less like a beginning and more like the end of the world.” 

“End of the world,” Mark echoes, running a hand through Donghyuck’s hair. “Sounds sad.” 

“It _ is _sad,” Donghyuck says, thinking about Renjun and Jeno and Jaemin. He thinks about his sisters, and the city, and the beach, and he thinks about leaving with such a bittersweet ferociousness it’s enough to bring tears to his eyes again. They don’t fall, but hover there against his lashes, blurring his vision. 

“All I ever wanted to do was be with you,” Mark admits out of the blue, and Donghyuck tilts his face up so he can kiss Mark’s chin, under his jaw. “Sorry. That sounds stupid.” 

“Not stupid,” Donghyuck argues. “Not stupid at all.” 

The sun starts to set, and the sky slowly turns from blue to yellow-orange. Mark sits up, straightens his hat, and says, “let’s go to the beach.” 

“The beach?” Donghyuck asks, confused, but Mark is already moving, grabbing Donghyuck’s hand. 

“C’mon,” Mark says, and with that expression, all Donghyuck can do is follow him. 

Mark loans Donghyuck his bike and grabs his skateboard, and they set off together. 

The neighborhood seems to float by Donghyuck as he follows Mark towards the ocean, windows reflecting gold and stucco turning pink as the sun creeps towards the horizon. 

They reach the sea wall, nothing but beach and ocean spread out before them, and Donghyuck feels like he can see the curve of the earth, standing here and looking out over the glittering water. 

“God, I’m going to miss it here,” Donghyuck says quietly. Mark takes his hand, and together, they make their way down to the wet sand. In the distance, they can see the pier, the very one they’d spent so many hours talking shit on. Just the other week, Donghyuck was in the water, up on surfboard. Mark was probably here this morning, too. So much time at the beach, Donghyuck thinks. Maybe one day he’ll look back at his time here, and the beach is all he’ll be able to remember. 

“You know,” Mark says conversationally, “I think I love you.” 

Donghyuck’s heart aches, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to cry or just explode. “I think I love you too,” he says. Mark smiles at him, and Donghyuck kisses that smile, twice, just for good measure. 

They lie back against the sand, hands intertwined. And maybe Donghyuck is terrified, and maybe later, he’ll cry about it, will lose his breath and lose his way, will trip and fall and skin his knees. The fear, the excitement, the crippling loss. Homesickness will exhaust him, and anxiety will nauseate him. It will be hard, and it will be scary, and he will have to face it all soon and figure out a way to be okay. 

But for now—for now, they have each other. And they have the sound of the waves, the warmth of their hands, and the sunset, bathing San Diego in color. The sky is pink again, and it feels like forever. And maybe, for now—for now, it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> i will write another fic about surfing and yet another about summer but you know what life is short and it makes me happy
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/idoldimples) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/conclusions)


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